Six Degrees of Mary Shannon
by master-manipulator
Summary: Mary's witnesses are turning up dead. She may be a target. Is there a mole in WITSEC or is someone out for revenge? Mary and Marshall race against the clock to relocate her witnesses, keep her family and friends safe, and find out who is responsible.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my friends. It has been a while since I have written any fan fiction so I may be a wee bit rusty. That being said, this is my first IPS story, although I have been a fan of the show since season one.**

**It is rated T (but there is some course language, imagine that), but there is a possibility of an M rating (we can only hope) in later chapters. **

**I don't do disclaimers because, come on, nobody is really going to confuse me with anyone that may actually be making money off of any of these kick ass characters and their world. **

**I do hope you enjoy. Please Review(good or bad), I can take it. And I love suggestions since, although I have a general idea about where the story is going, I enjoy new ideas that might just make it better.**

**P.S. Please forgive any spelling errors, I do my best, but my spellcheck is being a dumbass. So it's really up to me to catch any misspells. (what the hell did we do before word processors?)**

_Life is about choices. Some are mundane. Whether we get up the first time our alarm clock goes off. What to eat for breakfast. Whether or not we answer the phone when our parents call. Some are life altering. Where to go to college. Who to marry. Whether or not that AA meeting is really worth the effort or risk falling off the wagon and starting all over. Mundane or life altering, the choices we make define who we are. They are also the consequences that we have to live with._

_Mary Shannon_

It had started out as a very uneventful day for Mary and Marshall. A couple of surprise visits to new witnesses to make sure they were becoming acclimated to their new identities. Meeting for a long lunch with Abigail with Mary suffering through the giggles and inside jokes that only those in a new relationship could possible stomach. And a brief stop at the ATM to get some cash for Jinx for a deposit on a new car, which Peter had given her an unheard of deal. All in all, not a bad day, until...

"Mary," She glanced up from her own paperwork to eye Stan as he hurried from his office into the bullpen.

She looked over the piece of paper that he tossed on her desk. "Shit!"

"What's up?" Marshall gave his full attention from across the room.

Mary was already on her feet and pocketing her ID. "Will Tucker has been arrested." She reached in her drawer for her glock.

Marshall made it to her side in three long strides, taking the paper from her. "Again? What is it this time?"

"Boosting a watch from a department store." Stan provided.

Marshall gave an incredulous look to Mary, who scowled. "That's what you get when you let a fucking cleptomaniac into the program."

"You want me to go with you?" Marshall asked.

Stan answered for her. "Go pick up his sister. We need a complete threat assessment."

"Screw that," Mary growled. "That asshole is out this time." She turned on her heel and marched to the doors nearly pulling them off the hinges as she flung them open.

Marshall shook his head and looked at Stan. "I think he needs to be more afraid of Mary than the mob bosses he testified against."

Two hours later...

"You know, asshole, I was having a fairly descent day before you decided to jack it up for a cheap watch." Mary flung Will Tucker, who was nearly six inches shorter than her into a chair in the meeting room. Marshall was already there with Will's twin sister, Samantha next to him. Stan stood like a sentinel by the door.

"Will!" Samantha squealed as she jumped out of her seat and flung herself at her brother. "Are you okay?"

"Hell no, he's not okay!" Mary barked, as she motioned for the woman to return to her seat. "This is the third time you've been hauled in for theft, Will. Third time! Seriously, for someone who boosted cars for the Langstons for twenty years, you are a shitty thief." She finally took a breath and took the seat next to Samantha. "Now, because we get along so well with the Albequrque PD..." Marshall cleared his throat loudly. "Okay, because _Marshall_ gets along so well with the Albequrque PD, they offer us a little bit of latitude when we ask for favors. But enough is enough."

Will gave Mary his sweetest smile. "Come on, Mary. It was just a little watch. And, like you said, a cheap one at that."

Mary glared at him, and Marshall decided it was time for his input. "You know, Will," he said calmly, "The more times you are busted for anything, the chance of someone in the Langston family finding you increases significantly."

"Not to mention that breaking the law is expressly frowned upon by the government who has footed the bill to keep you and your sister safe." Stan interjected.

"I tried," Will whined. "I really tried, Mary. But you know I can't help myself."

"Yeah, well," Mary flipped through the file in front of her. "Your compulsion is obviously more important than your safety. Or the safety of your sister." Her words hung heavy. Finally Mary had had enough. "You're out of the program, Will. The next time you get busted, you're doing time."

"What?" Will and Samantha cried out at the same time, both jumping to their feet.

"You can't do this, Mary." Samantha pleaded. When she realized that the blond marshal was a lost cause, she turned to Stan, who she knew to be Mary's superior. "Please, don't let her do this. It isn't right." She dropped back into her seat and began sobbing.

Stan stood stoic, his arms crossed firmly in front of him. "I'm backing my marshal on this one. WITSEC has rules for a reason. And I will not have ANYONE risking the safety of MY marshals or their witnesses because he's got sticky fingers."

Will threw his hands up. "Fine. You know what? I don't have to put up with this crap, anyway. I'm outta here." He turned on his heel and marched out of the meeting room, Stan close behind.

Mary took a deep breath and turned back to Samantha. "Samantha, since your brother is now out of WITSEC, we'll have to relocate you somewhere he can't find you."

Samantha sniffed, eyes still watering. "Move me? I...I can't..." She gathered herself suddenly and straightened her back. "If he's out. Then I'm out."

"Samantha," Mary stood to confront the woman, but tried to keep her voice calm. "The men who your brother testified against are still out there, and trust me, they will have no problem using you to get to him. They will kill you and try not to get blood on their shoes."

"And my brother? What about him?"

"He's on his own now." Mary said plainly crossing her arms.

Samantha gathered her purse from her chair, securing it to her shoulder. "No he's not."

"Samantha," Mary began as Samantha moved towards the door, but stopped when Samantha turned to confront her.

"He's all I've got, Mary. Wouldn't you do the same thing for your family?"

Marshall shifted where he stood, and Mary did not have to look at his expression to know what he was thinking. He made no secret of the fact that he detested the way Mary always put herself and her career on the line for her mother and sister. For some reason unknown to him, Mary always assumed responsibility for her family. It was at moments like these that Marshall refused to let Mary be a hypocrite. He would call her on her bull shit should the need arise.

"Your right." Mary said softly. "I would."

Samantha accepted this, nodded silently, and followed her brother into the bull pen where Stan waited.

An hour later, Mary pushed her way into her living room, prepared to crash down on her couch and catch up on the last four episodes of Friday Night Lights that were still taking up space on her DVR. And maybe lose herself for a few hours. She needed to forget the Turners. There was really nothing she could do about their situation. Following the rules of WITSEC was the only way to guarantee everyone's safety.

Instead, she found Brandi and Peter snuggled on her couch, the light from the TV the only illumination in the room. She sighed loudly but kept her mouth shut as she moved to the kitchen, threw her keys on the table, and rummaged through the fridge for a beer. She popped the top and took a long, slow swig.

Content that she could now deal with her sister and her boyfriend without letting her temper off its leash, she moved back into the living room. "I'm sorry, but Peter, don't you have like some huge mansion that the two of you could occupy for your movie nights? Not to mention probably a thousand inch HDTV where you can see every last dimple on Kim Kardashian's ass?"

Peter shifted slightly so that Mary could get a good view of Brandi with her head on his lap. A bright blue wash cloth was splayed accross her forehead and the bathroom trashcan was positioned right next to the couch. Peter shrugged at her. "Flu." He stated simply.

Mary wrinkled her nose as she leaned against the door frame. "What are you watching?"

"Someone Like You." Brandi managed even with her stopped up nose.

This time Mary stuck her tongue out in disgust. "Make sure you Lysol my couch when you're done with it." She pushed herself from the doorway and moved purposefully to the bathroom.

"By the way, Raph called for you." Brandi called from the couch. "He said you left a message for him to call you."

As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, Mary sighed inwardly before picking up the small glass box on the counter. She opened it and looked at its contents, convincing herself that this was the only way she could get closure, but unsure that the finality of it was truly what she wanted. She could still hear the TV from the living room. She could hear a sappy monologue recited by a teary eyed Ashley Judd:

_"You find the real thing. You find a guy who can sit with you at your absolute worst and you're knee deep in kleenex, and your face looks like a punching bag. And you are a complete and total mess, and he can still look at you and tell you that Ray is not the last man that you are ever going to love."_

Mary pondered the words only long enough for the nausea to swirl in her stomach. Finally she closed the box, returned it to the counter, and pushed herself away from the sink. "What a load of crap!" she growled and reached over to turn on the shower just before slamming the door shut, effectively shutting out the ridiculous music that signaled that the two main characters had, in fact, found their way to each other and the end of the movie was imminent. They could ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. _Blah, blah, blah..._Mary stripped off her clothes and crawled into the sanctuary of the shower.

Six months later...

Mary was rousted unceremoniously from her sound slumber by her phone's shrill beeping on the night stand right beside her head. She had been having a particular stellar dream about Hugh Jackman and George Clooney and was very reluctant to be removed from her compromising position between them. She grunted loudly and shoved her head under her pillow.

"Mary, answer your damn phone!" Even from the living room, her partner's voice broke through the cotton barrier over her ears, pissing her off even more.

"Screw you, Marshall." Was her muffled reply. Finally realizing that the fuzzy memories of hot, sweaty celebrities was all she was going to be left with, she shoved the pillow aside and snatched up her phone, squinting at the small screen as her boss' name blinked at her without remorse. _This better be good, Stan. _She punched the talk button.

"Yeah."

"Mary, it's Stan."

Mary exhaled deeply mentally counting the times she had reminded Stan that she knew perfectly well who he was before answering the phone. At this particular moment, she was not in the mood to correct his statement of the obvious.

Propping herself on her elbow she awkwardly brush her hair from her face. "What's up, Stan?"

"You need to turn on the TV."

"Stan," she glanced at the clock with the red numbers glaring at her. "It's five-fifteen. What could be so important...?"

"Just do it, Mary!"

The urgency in Stan's voice was enough to prompt her tired muscles into action. With the phone still at her ear, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled down the hall into her living room. Not giving a second thought to her partner still snoozing on the couch where he had fallen asleep the night before, she snatched the remote control off the coffee table and turned on the TV.

As the bright screen lit the room Mary was immediately struck by the picture with an annoying, all too perky news journalist chatting on:

_"Samantha Turner's body was recovered this morning from Big Bear Lake in the San Barnardino Mountains of California. She was discovered by some local fisherman about an hour ago, right around dawn."_

"Jesus Christ." Mary exhaled as she punched Marshall's long legs that were dangling over the arm of the couch. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Move your ass over."

Marshall groaned and tried in vain to tuck his legs closer to him. When that didn't work, he sat up, scooting to the edge of couch with his blanket wrapped around his bare chest. He blinked as Mary plopped down beside him, turning up the volume.

_"Her body was discovered at dawn when two locals had set off for what they thought would be an uneventful fishing expedition."_

"Mary, you still there?"

Mary hadn't realized that Stan was still on the phone. "Yeah, let me call you back." Without waiting for an answer, she hung up.

_"The police have given no indication as to whether this was an accidental drowning or if there is foul play involved."_

"Damn it!"

A still weary eyed Marshall rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair and down his face. "Did I just hear..."

"Yes," Mary snapped, suddenly irritated that she had allowed him to crash on her couch after falling asleep watching a movie the previous night. She turned off the TV and threw the remote back on the coffee table with a loud thud. "Samantha Turner is dead."

She dropped her head in her hands as Marshall disentangled himself from his blanket, tossed it in a heap next to her and pushed himself from the couch. He knew that she would need time to process the information and that asking her about her state of mind at that particular moment would surely lead down the road to dismemberment. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom.

Mary barely registered the toilet flushing in the bathroom as her brain worked furiously to make sense of the terrible tragedy that was laid out before her. _Not Samantha. God damn it! _It was her fault. She should have convinced Samantha to stay in the program. She should have pushed harder. She should have made Samantha understand that leaving WITSEC would lead most certainly to her demise. _God damn it, Mary! You should have done something, anything!_

So engrossed in berating herself was she that she didn't notice Marshall standing behind her until he cleared his throat. She looked up at him, ready to yell at him to get out, that she was in no mood to hear his speech about how she did everything she could and how it wasn't her fault. But she didn't.

There he stood, his hair still mussed, in his wrinkled green t-shirt, waving a cup of coffee at her like a white flag of peace. It struck Mary how often she underestimated her partner. Not on the job. Never on the job. Her lanky, over brain powered partner was certainly a bad ass law man, and she never doubted for a second that he had her back in the field. What she had a tendency to forget, or perhaps didn't want to admit, was that Marshall knew her better than anyone. At times, even better than she knew herself. It was irritating most of the time. But at those moments when he recognized that she didn't need commentary from him, she was glad was there. Just his presence was enough. He would instinctively know when it was time to talk her down off the ledge.

She gave him a small smile in thanks and took the steaming mug from him. Taking a long swig, she glanced up at him again. "When did you make coffee?"

Marshall smiled back at her and resumed his place on the couch, cradling his own cup with both hands. "Probably between the moments you were thinking that it is your fault that she's dead and you should have done something more for her." Raising an eyebrow at him, she nodded in affirmation. "They didn't say how she died?"

She shook her head. They both knew the probability that she had been killed by the Lanston family. It was a little too convenient that only six months after Samantha and her brother had been booted out of WITSEC, she should suddenly turn up dead. Mary sighed audibly. There was nothing they could do about Samantha. Will was another matter. Maybe he was still out there. Maybe she could still save him.

Marshall watched her demeanor change and knew what it meant. She was compartmentalizing. "Mary," his voice held just a hint of reprimand. "There's no reason to believe that this isn't just some random accident. Will might still be perfectly safe where he's is."

Mary chewed her bottom lip while she considered his words. Making up her mind, she quickly drained her cup and jumped to her feet. She looked down expectantly at her partner.

Marshall sighed in resignation before finishing his own coffee and pushing himself to his feet. "Alright. We'll find out what happened to Samantha and then decide what our next step will be. I'll run home and change, and I'll meet you at the office." He stopped and watched her for a moment.

She scowled at him "What? Get going, Doofus!" Mary yanked the coffee cup from his hand and shooed him toward the door.

She shoved him out of the house and leaned heavily against the door. She glanced down at her phone. 6:03. God, it was going to be long day.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Mary had showered, dressed, and finally made it the office, it was almost seven o'clock. It was no surprise to her that Marshall was already there, on the phone, trying to get information about Samantha Turner's death. Stan was also there. Like Marshall, he was having a very intense conversation on the phone. Neither man had seen her enter. She allowed herself the briefest of smiles. The troops had been rallied. For better or worse, they were behind her.

"They won't give you any more information than that? Even as a professional courtesy?" Marshall finally noticed Mary at the door and motioned to her desk.

Mary walked to her desk to discover a Starbuck's cup sitting next to her computer. Steam from the hot coffee was barely making its way through the lip hole on the plastic lid. She picked it up and took a long drink, hoping the hot liquid might possibly burn away the last three hours.

"I'll call you later. Thanks, Abigail." Marshall hung up his phone and took his own turn draining his coffee.

Under normal circumstances, Mary would have had a problem with Marshall turning to his girlfriend for her own problems. This time, however, things had gone beyond WITSEC and its confidentiality. Unfortunately, Marshall's expression did not hold much promise. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers templed under his chin.

Mary began to feel restless. Was he going to fill her in or what? "Well? What did Juliet say?" Thank god she could still manage sarcasm.

He smirked at her, but ignored the comment. "Once the locals ID'd Samantha and realized that she was Will's sister, they called in the FBI. And they are not too keen on sharing information, as you well know."

His partner snorted. Mary had had her fill of the god damned Feds. Between O'Connor arresting her sister and harassing Mary and then the Faber debacle, there was really not alot that Mary considered the FBI to be good for.

"The Feds. Fan-fucking-tastic." She sank into her own chair, just as Stan was left his office to stand between their two desks.

Marshall spoke first. "Any luck on locating Will?"

"The FBI has a BOLO out for him. They checked his house, but his neighbor said she hadn't seen him in the last three days."

"Great." Mary ran a hand through her hair before yanking it back into a ponytail. "What about the FBI, Stan? Can you find a way to bypass those assholes so we can get some information?"

Stan sighed. "Mary, between O'Connor and Faber, you are very close to the top of the FBI's list of people that they don't want to work with." Marshall stifled a laugh, and Mary gave him the finger. Stan ignored the childish behavior to which he had become so accustomed. "I hate to say this. But we may just have to let the Feds do their job this time."

"Forgive me if that doesn't make me feel better. You may as well put the investigation in the hands of a chimp." Mary growled. She picked a pencil out of the holder on her desk and rolled it between her fingers.

"Mary, it's out of our hands. Will and Samantha left Witness Protection. Besides, I don't see anything that we..."

"I do." She finally snapped the pencil in half. "How long can you give us?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Mary glanced at Marshall. From the small smile on his face, she knew that he had read her mind. "Just long enough for a quick trip to California." Marshall answered for her.

Stan shook his head. "No, no way."

"Come on, Stan." Mary whined.

"Absolutely not!" He stood his ground. "Will is no longer a protected witness. He is no longer our problem. Now," He unceremoniously tossed a piece of paper in front of Mary. "Daniel Farthing is due for his six month eval. Take Marshall and check on your witness."

"Why do I have to go?" This time it was Marshall who whined. Mary stuck her tongue out at him.

"Because I don't want Mary getting herself into more trouble by going AWOL and hopping a plane to California."

"Damn, you know me too well." Mary said as she slung her jacket over her shoulder and removed her glock from her desk drawer.

"I want a report before lunch." Stan left no room for argument.

Two hours later, Mary and Marshall sat in the Starbucks' drive-thu waiting for their coffee. Mary grunted in frustration.

"What a waste of time!"

Daniel Farthing had been in the program for seven years and had always been the ideal witness. He had been the personal aide to Harold Thomas, a very successful televangelist and Director of the Thomas Ministry that railed mostly against homosexuals and how they were part of a conspiracy to ruin society. In particular, the Ministry ran a boot camp for gay teens to 'make them see the error of their ways, forswear their homosexuality, and return to the church.' The resort promised that it would aide in bringing teens back into the fold of the church by living a holy, hereosexual life. Farthing had discovered that not only was Harold and his wife, Mimi, bilking the Thomas Ministy for millions of dollars, but the camp was used as a front for underage prostition. Farthing had single-handedly taken down, not only Harold and his wife, but the whole cartel that had been serving as the board of the Ministry. He had been so distraught over the events that he had no qualms leaving his own life and starting over. In the six years he had been in WITSEC, he had never posed a single problem. Would that all witnesses were so easy to protect.

Marshall reached through the window, accepted a coffee cup from the barista and handed it to Mary.

"Evals are a necessary evil, Mare. You know that. Besides, Farthing is always an easy report."

While she knew this to be true, she placed her cup in the holder and crossed her arms, indicating that she was not done with her tantrum. "Yeah, well, it could have been done next week."

Her partner took his own cup, tossed the change in the tip jar and pulled into traffic. Mary wrinkled her nose when he tipped at the drive-thru but decided a new tirade about tipping people who make coffee and get paid minimum wage would derail the issue she was already sulking about. She kept her mouth shut and stared out the window.

It seemed odd to Marshall that she had made no comment about his tipping habits, but as he watched her intense gaze at he passing scenery, he had a feeling he knew what was going on in mind. Despite everyone's attempt to convince her otherwise, she was still blaming herself for Samantha's death. He just hoped that the guilt wouldn't drag her down into a deep self loathing that would cause her to close herself off from everything and everybody. So he did the only thing he knew to do in this instance.

"Did you know that the practice of tipping is said to have been started in the 18th century in English pubs?" He noticed Mary rolling her eyes but kept going. "It was called 'drink money.' It came from the idea of offering the server to 'have a drink' at the patrons expense..."

"Are you just trying to piss me off, Jackass?" While her words dripped with sarcasm, she knew what he was doing. He wasn't rambling on just to ramble. It was necessary dance that they moved through. He presented random facts that he knew she could care less about to keep her out of her own head, and she pretended to resent the fact that he did it so she wouldn't have to admit how much it actually kept her sane. And how grateful she was for it.

Marshall was also aware of the soothing affect his trivia had on her, in spite of her trying to convince herself otherwise. So he continued, "Tipping didn't really catch on in the U.S. until around the Civil War..."

They were back in the office not twenty minutes later with Mary swearing to Marshall that if he continued to speak, she would never tip anyone ever again. Marshall finally conceded as he sat behind his desk. His eyes immediately went to a single piece of paper. After looking it over briefly, he glanced up at Mary who had a similar bewildered expression. In tandum, they snatched up their papers, jumped out of their chairs, and moved in very few strides to Stan's office. Mary went in first with Marshall at her heels.

"What the hell is this, Stan?" She waved the paper at him.

Stan was seated behind his desk filling out paperwork. He did not look at either marshal. "You both have some vacation time that needs to be used immediately or you will lose it." He looked up at them to find them staring at him like he had grown another head. "I figure three days is long enough for the two of you to get some R&R. Maybe go see the ocean." He eyed them carefully. They were two of the best marshals he had ever known, so it would have surprised him had they not picked up the hint. "I've already signed off on both requests." Not waiting for an answer, he looked back down at his paperwork and continued his business.

Marshall looked at Mary. "I've never seen the Pacific Ocean before."

She actually smiled back at him before moving quickly behind where Stan was sitting. She grabbed both sides of his head and planted a sloppy kiss on what was left of his thinning hair. "I love you, baldy."

Stan smacked her away. "Yeah, yeah. Now get outta here."

Mary was following Marshall out the door when Stan stopped them. "Just remember, you two. You're there in an unoffical capacity." He gave Mary a hard stare. "Try not to piss anybody off your first day there."

"Don't worry, Stan. I plan to save my skull cracking for day two."

Before Stan could reply, Mary was at her desk packing up her stuff. Instead, he turned to Marshall. "Keep an eye on her." He said softly.

Marshall gave him a crooked smile and patted his boss on the shoulder. "That's all I ever do."

They rushed through the airport terminal with Mary thankful that their marshals' badges had allowed them to avoid wading throught airport security. The first flight they could get seats on was leaving at one o'clock. That had given them nearly two hours to get their stuff together and get to the airport. Unfortunately, there had been a seven car pile up on the interstate going towards the airport and the drive had taken forty-five minutes longer than usual. Now Mary and Marshall ran through the terminal, each shouldering their own bags.

"Where the hell is the gate?" Mary yelled. She barely missed mowing down a pair of twin two year olds in the crowded corridor. She could hear their mother yelling at her while Marshall tried to apologize as he hurried past.

"There!" Marshall pointed to their left. "Gate 52."

They barrelled into the gate waving madly at the blond attendant behind the desk. They stopped, breathing heavily.

"Sorry," She said unapologetically, snapping her gum. "Doors are closed."

Mary looked at Marshall who nodded at her. They both pulled out their badges and slammed them down on the counter in front of the girl. She looked back up at the marshals only to find Mary glaring daggers at her.

The girl gave a sheepish smile before picking up the phone. "Give me just a sec."

Marshall smiled pleasantly at her. "Take all the time you need."

Ten minutes later, Mary and Marshall were escorted to their seats. As it turned out, due to the last minute booking, they were not seated next to each other. Mary groaned as she scooted by a large man to end up in the window seat. He was in a suit and sweating profusely. Talking on his phone very loudly in a thick, Texan accent, the man's face was beginning to turn bright red, and Mary hoped that he would not decided to have a heart attack at 30,000 feet in the air.

She gave a quick look back to see Marshall folding his long frame into a seat two rows back and across the aisle. He was next to a young girl about twelve who was painting her fingernails and bopping along to whatever crazy tween trend was blaring out of her earphones. Every now and then she would begin singing to the chorus.

"Ah tol that man that ah will not sale for less than 60k." The fat man yelled into his phone. He stopped and listened briefly. "You can tell that cock sucker that ah will hold on to that stock until the day ah die, if need be." Silence. "Fine, you tell'em that." He snapped his phone shut. Suddenly he adjusted in his seat, smartly elbowing Mary in the bicep.

"Ow." Mary complained, rubbing her arm.

"Oh, ahm sorry lil lady." He wiggled again. "They just don' make these seats to accomodate us big boys." He laughed loudly, giving off a rasping sound that signaled that either he had been a habitual smoker for some time, or his heart was getting ready to give out. Either way, Mary was sure that his racking laughter was shaking the whole plane.

"Doesn't look like you've ever found a burger joint that didn't accomodate you." She said.

The man looked at her as if she had just threatened to kill his dog. He turned toward her as much as his body would allow. "Excuse me..."

"Excuse me." They both looked up to see Marshall standing over them, smiling apologetically to the man. "I was wondering if you and I could trade seats."

The man's face softened briefly at Marshall's mild tone, then sneered at Mary. "I don' think ya could handle this young filly, son. She's gonna need someone who's used to breaking a wild one." He broke another disgusting fit of laughter.

Marshall raised a hand before Mary could sink her claws into the idiot. "I know that, sir. I guess I should get my practice in, then." He winked at Mary then gave the cowboy a sappy grin. "We're on our honeymoon."

The large cowboy just about jumped out of his seat at that statement. He turned to Mary. "That true, lil girl?"

It was a rare occasion when Mary Shannon was rendered speechless, but Marshall always marveled at the way her lips twitched and her nose wrinkled when she was uncapable of producing a witty come back. Had she not been so shocked, Marshall was sure that she would have punched him in his sensitive parts.

As expected,, she recovered quickly and gave her patented Mary grin, dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, just got married today." She stuck her gut out as far as it would go and rubbed it lovingly. She put her hand to her mouth as if to whisper. "Shot gun wedding. Although, with this beanpole it's a wonder there was enough of the little suckers in the barrel to even get to my uterus." She grinned at her partner. Marshall narrowed his eyes, but forced a smile.

The cowboy gave a confused look to Mary, then to Marshall, and then back to Mary. He shook his head and unfastened his seat belt. He pushed himself up and moved aside for Marshall to take his seat. Before he left them, he patted Marshall on the back and said, "Hope ya got your spurs on, young man. I get the feeling she's gonna be a whopper to break."

Marshall nodded and gave the man a smile of thanks. When they were alone, he fully prepared himself for a punch in the arm. He wasn't expecting the shot to the ribs that Mary delivered. "Ow!" He cried.

"If you ever do that again," Mary warned. "I will make sure that your barrell is completely empty in the event you do want to have children some day."

"Noted." He groaned, rubbing his side. "You should be thanking me. If you'd made the trip next to that guy, I'd probably be dragging you off the plane in handcuffs."

Mary was already occupied, flipping through the pages of the flight magezine from in front of her seat. "Yeah, you'd love that, huh. One of Marshall's many fantasies come true."

Suddenly Marshall was unsure if she was still joking. While his unspoken feelings for Mary was nothing new to him, he was sure that he had done at least a half assed decent job of keeping them from her. Although, he was sure that if she had an inkling, she would stay so far away from the topic that she may as well be on the moon.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of the Captain on the intercom. "Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Jay Morgan, and I'll be your Captain today on your flight to LAX..."

Mary snickered. "Captain Morgan." Marshall only rolled his eyes.

"Looks like it's going to be a fairly uneventful flight today with beautiful skies all the way to LA. Our travel time is going to be right around 2 hours and 15 minutes. That will put us there right around 4:15 Pacific time. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight."

Just as Captain Morgan had said, they landed at LAX at 4:13. Two hours later, they were in Big Bear Lake. Mary sat in the passenger seat of the rental car, watching the scenery go by. They had decided that since time was of the essence and Will Turner might be in real danger, they would wait to check into their motel and headed right to the police station. They walked to the front desk where a tall, thin man with fiery red hair and freckles was typing with one finger on his keyboard. His name tag read Anthony Milnes. Marshall was prepared to show the younger officer his badge, but Mary got there first.

"Excuse me," She said with a worried expression. "I saw on the news that Samantha Turner was killed out on Big Bear Lake. Is that true?"

Officer Milnes eyed her for a moment. "And who are you?"

Marshall could see Mary physically swallow any bitter retort to the man's nerve of questioning her. Instead, to his surprise, she kept her tempter in check.

"I am her cousin. Hers and Will's. Her brother."

"Hm." Milnes typed, with one finger, something into his computer.

Mary tapped her finger on the counter, clearly growing impatient. "Well? Are you going to tell me what I want to know, or what?"

Ignoring her growing irritation, Milnes picked up his phone and pushed a button. "Tell Agent Crews that Samantha Turner's cousin..." He looked back at the marshalls, expectantly.

"Mary," she answered his unspoken question after glancing briefly at her partner. "Mary Shepard."

"Mary Shepard is inquiring about Ms. Turner." He listened for another moment. "Okay." He hung up and addressed them again. "Agent Crews is in charge of the investigation. She'll be with you in a minute. You can wait over there." He indicated two chairs accross the room. He dismissed them by turning his attention back to his computer screen.

Marshall followed Mary to the seats and took the one to her right. "What was that about?"

"Unofficial capacity." Mary said, snatching a gun magezine from the shelf next to her.

"You don't really think that the FBI won't run a background on you?"

She shrugged. "Let them look. Backgrounds take time, and besides, Mary Shepard doesn't exist."

Marshall reached over for his own magezine. "This is going to end badly."

A few minutes later, a petite woman with long black hair pulled into a swinging pony tail. She was dressed in a smart black suit complete with heels. To Mary, she screamed Federal Agent. The marshals stood up as she approached.

"Mary Shepard?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The small woman glanced a Marshall, and Mary couldn't help but notice the approving look she gave him. "And you are?"

He took her outstretched hand that Mary had ignored and smiled warmly at her. "Marshall. I'm Mary's..." He shot a wary glance at Mary before continuing. "friend."

"I'm Agent Lana Crews. If you will follow me this way, please, we can find a place to speak in private."

The marshals followed the Agent Crews through a big metal door that led to the back offices of the station. They ended up in the station bullpen where several uniformed officers moved about filing, talking on the phone, and filling out paperwork. Crews led them through the open area into an unused interrogation room. It was empty save for a long table, two chairs on either side. Instead of the stereotypical two way mirror, there was a video camera on a tripod in the corner of the room.

Crews motion for them to take a seat, which they did. She remained standing. "So, what is it I can do for you Marshal Mary Shannon?" Mary and Marshall glanced at each other. They had been busted. Marshal nudged Mary with his elbow. "Yes, I know who you are. And you Marshal Marshall Mann. Your names are not unknown to the Bureau. You in particular, Inspector Shannon."

Mary leaned to her partner and whispered as if Crews couldn't hear her. "I thought Stan was joking about that."

He merely shrugged, then turned his attention back to the FBI agent. "Just how much do you know about us?" There was no way they were going to give up unknown information about themselves. Especially about being WITSEC inspectors.

"I know that the two of you are WITSEC inspectors." _So much for that._ "Now, why are you here?"

Marshall decided that he was through with Mary's bullshit and decided to come clean. It was time for some tact, and he recognized that Mary was not in the mood to provide it. He folded his hands on the table in front of him and smiled politely at Crews. "You see, Agent Crews, Will and Samantha Turner were under our protection for a time. They obviously left the program for reasons...of their own. You can understand that when we heard about Samantha, we were...curious."

Agent Crews regarded him for a moment, cleary affected by his genteel demeanor. Such the opposite of his rough-edged partner.

Before she could respond, Marshall continued. "We are not here to get in the FBI's way. We were worried about Will and thought we might be of some assistance."

He gave her another toothy grin, and Mary thought she might throw up. She absolutely hated watching women flirt with her partner. She hated it more when he flirted back. The feeling was mutual. She knew that Marshall was just as protective of her when guys tried to hit on her. The difference was that most of them barely got 'hello' out of their mouths before Mary shut them down.

His tactic obviously worked because Agent Crews' defensive posture began to soften. "We haven't been able to find Will. His neighbor hasn't seen him in days. We've got a BOLO out on his van, but nothing has turned up, yet."

"What the hell is going on here?" They turned to see a very large man with salt and pepper hair that matched his mustache. He was almost as tall as Marshall but had about a hundred pounds on the younger marshal. He almost filled the door frame.

"Agent Myers, US Marshals Shannon and Mann. They were inquiring about the Turner case." Crews made the indroductions. "This is my partner, Agent Tim Myers."

Myers walked the rest of the way into the room, towering over Mary and Marshall, obviously trying to intimidate them. "What the hell does the Marshal's office want with the Turner case?"

Marshall was glad that Crews spoke up before Mary could bite the large man's head off. "They are WITSEC inspectors, Myers. The Turners were assigned to them when they were in Witness Protection. They thought they might have some insight on the whereabouts of Will."

Myers grunted. "Looking out for their own asses, more like. Which one of you was it kicked the Turners out of WITSEC anyhow?"

Mary had finally had enough of keeping silent. She stood suddenly, slamming her hands on the table. "Listen you tub of lard, we were just..." she paused and turned to Marshall, "what did she said we were doing?"

"Offering insight." Marshall told her calmly.

"Yeah, offering insight. I don't know what your beef is with us, but I'll be damned if you're gonna stand there and presume to know how we handle our witnesses. If your dumbass could keep these witnesses safe, they wouldn't need us, now would they."

Marshall stood quickly putting himself between the two. More for Myers' safety than Mary's. "Okay, let's just take it easy everybody. As I was telling you more...reasonable partner here, we're not here to cause any trouble or get in your way."

"Good," Myers said gruffly. He turned to Crews. "I don't want these two anywhere near the Turner case. You hear me? Now, get them out of here!"

Crews raised a skepical eyebrow at him, but nodded.

"We were just leaving!" Mary said sternly turning for the door.

It occured to Marshall that the FBI agents were not on equal ground in their partnership. Mary was obviously helping Agent Crews save face by opting to leave rather than have Crews escort them out with her partner's domineering eyes on her back. While Mary was a little rough around the edges, she could be sympathetic at times.

The marshals moved back through bullpen with Marshall easily keeping pace with Mary's quick strides. She barged through the doors leading to the lobby not giving a second glance to Officer Milnes who was still picking at his keyboard. She finally gave a loud yell when she reached the street corner where their rental car waited.

"Take it easy." Marshall soothed.

"Fucking Feds!" She sulked, banging her hand on the top of the car.

Marshall took her by the wrist gently. "Hey, the car didn't do anything. When was the last time you ate?"

"The pizza we had last night."

"Let's go get something to eat. Put things into perspective. Then we'll go talk to Will's neightbor. Maybe she mentioned something to the Feds that would seem insignifigant to them. You know Will pretty well. Maybe something she can tell us will mean something to you."

He watched her processing what he was saying. Then she glanced down at where he was still holding her arm. He had been unconsciencely tracing circles in the inside of her wrist with his thumb. Their eyes met. Hers held confusion, his held slight embarrassment as he quickly dropped her arm.

He gave her a small smile. "Mexican or Italian. I'm buying."

A slow grin moved across Mary's face. "Sushi."

"Inspectors." They turned to see Agent Crews walking through the door. "I want to apologize for my partner. He can be kind of a..."

"Dick?" Mary finished for her.

"Yeah. Listen, regardless of what he says, I would appreciate any input you might have on the Turners."

Mary crossed her arms. "And what will you do for us?"

Agent Crews considered what she said. "I'll tell you everything that I know about how Samantha died."

The marshals looked at each other seemingly having a conversation without even talking. Finally, Marshall spoke. "We were just going to get some sushi. Would you like to join us?"

Her eyes lit up. "I love sushi."

"I changed my mind." Mary said abruptly. "Where's the nearest diner?"

Marshall rolled his eyes, but Crews didn't seem to notice Mary's dismissal. She smiled broadly. "I know the perfect place. It's kind of a dive, but they make the best burgers around."

"Let's go." Mary got in the front passenger seat of the car, making sure to slam the door closed. She rolled down the window and let her hand hang out.

Marshall opened the rear door for the FBI agent. "Afer you, Agent Crews."

"Please call me Lana." She said as she nodded her thanks before climbing in behind Mary.

As Marshall moved around the front of the car to the driver's side, he heard the unmistakable sound of Mary murmuring, "Gross."

Lana was right. The Starlight Diner was a dive. There were only two people sitting at the long bar that faced the kitchen. They were both older men who looked to have nothing better to do than to drink coffee all day and flirt with the young waitress behind the counter, who gladly indulged them as long as they were putting money in her pocket.

The smells that hit her when she walked through the door, however, delighted Mary's senses, causing her mouth to water. Her stomach rumbled loudly; a not so subtle reminder that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. As the trio took a booth in the back corner, she reviewed everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. It had been a whirlwind. One that she was certain was not going to let up anytime soon.

The young waitress approached the table. She smiled brightly at them, and announced that her name was Jenny. Mary wondered how anyone could continue to be so perky working in a diner. Maybe the old guys at the counter tipped her very well to sit and oogle her goodies. They each gave her their orders and waiting until she was out of earshot before they continued.

She turned her attention to her companions. Lana was still apologizing to him for her partner, something that Mary would never dream of doing. Then again, there wasn't much to apologize for where Marshall was concerned. He was a people person, and a damn good marshal. If anything, he was the one who should constantly be apologizing for her. Though, even that didn't happen too often. Marshall, for some reason, seemed to accept her as she was. She still wondered sometimes how he had managed to put up with her during their eight year partnership.

"Tim and I have only been partners for about six months. Truth be told, I've only been out of the academy for a little over a year."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for the life story, now how about you tell us about how Samantha died." Mary said, trying to hurry the conversation along.

"Well, considering who she is, we had the autopsy expedited. Preliminaries showed that she was definitly dead before she went into that lake. Most likely by asphyxiation. But we won't know for sure until the final report comes in."

"Asphyxiation, huh?" Marshall toyed with the corner of the beverage napking in front of him.

"Sounds like the Lanstons MO." Mary said grimly. "They ususally leave the bag over the vics head when they dump them."

She stopped talking abruptly when Jenny returned with their food. Mary eyed her plate of fried eggs and bacon with unadulterated lust in her eyes. When Jenny had made sure that they had everything they needed, she excused herself back to the counter.

"Now, let's talk about Will." Lana challenged as she used both hands to pick up the massive burger in front of her.

Mary shook her head as she stuffed her mouth with food. "When we're done eating." She said with her mouth full.

Lana looked to Marshall who merely shrugged and picked up his own burger, single-handedly, and began munching himself. Obvioulsy crestfallen, Lana accepted defeat and began work on her own plate.

Fifteen minutes later, Mary was soaking up the rest of her eggs with toast as Jenny took Marshall and Lana's empty plates.

"Okay," Lana started. She placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. "Time to fess up. What do you know about Will Turner that might help me find him?"

Before Mary could answer, Lana's cell phone rang out. _Saved by the bell,_ she thought. Lana excused herself and walked away from the table to speak on her phone.

"Are you going to tell her what she wants to know, or keep giving her the runaround?" Marshall inquired.

Mary fixed him with an indignant stare. "I don't have to tell her shit. Why don't you do it? She seems more interested in what you have to say anyway. Maybe you can discuss it during pillow talk."

It was rare that she saw Marshall thouroughly confused, but even those rare instances, Mary speculated that he was faking it for her benefit. Such was the case now, as he stared at her like he had no idea what she was talking about. He looked as if he had some retort inmind but was cut off as Lana rejoined them.

"Well, looks like I won't need you help after all." She said solemnly, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

Mary and Marshall glanced at each other.

"You found him?" Marshall was the first to speak.

"A van, same make and model as Turner's, just exploded in the parking lot of a nearby grocery store. Witnesses say that a man matching Turner's description got into the van and started the ignition just before it blew. I think it's safe to say that whoever killed his sister, found him first."


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome back! **

**Looking back, I realized that I never really established a timeline for when this story actually takes place. Let's just say that it's mixed in somewhere among seasons three and four (sans the whole prego business).  
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**This chapter is more character based than case based, but we will be getting back to the murders in the next chapter. Trust me when I tell you that this chapter kind of took on a life of it's own and ended up totally different from the way I originally envisioned it. That being said, enjoy and please R&R.**

Silence fell over the table as the group processed the news. Mary suddenly regretted stuffing her face full of food. Her stomach turned and was threatening to rebel. She stared at Lana in disbelief. Dead. Two of her witnesses had been killed in as many days. Granted, she reasoned,they weren't technically her witnesses anymore_. _The logical part of her brain fought to convince her that nothing she had done had led to the Turners' deaths. The rest, however, was winning. She _was _responsible for their deaths. She had forced Will out of WITSEC, and, consequently, his sister had followed. How could it not be her fault?

Marshall watched his partner as the color drained from her face. He felt a pang of guilt at her situation and wondered if there had been something he could have done to save her from the pain she was suffering now. Perhaps if he had convinced her to let Will stay in the program. No, Mary had done her job. Will did not want to follow the rules that had been laid out for him. Neither he nor Mary was responsible for what had happened. And he would be damned if he was going to let her take it on as an irredeemable sin for which she felt deserved some sort of self served loathing.

"Mary," he said gently.

He received no response. Instead, Mary pushed him out of the booth and bolted toward the door. Marshall glanced down at the table then at Lana.

She nodded sympathetically. "I've got the check. Go see to your partner."

Marshall smiled his thanks and took off after Mary. He looked around the parking lot. Even with the darkening sky, he could make out half of her form doubled over at the side of the building. He sprinted to her.

She was hunched over at the waist, holding her own hair, finally relieving her stomach of her dinner. Not really sure what to do next, Marshall let his instincts take over. He stood behind her and gently gathered her hair from her hands. Surprisingly, she accepted his help. She braced her hands on her knees to support herself as she began to dry heave. He began rubbing her back.

"They're dead, Marshall!" She croaked.

"Mary," he began, still tracing gentle circles on her back.

She straightened abruptly and spun to face him. Anger painted her face. "Don't you dare tell me that this isn't my fault, Marshall! I can't handle your cliches right now."

Marshall was shocked that she would possibly think that he was trying to patronize her in some way. He did recognize that she was not herself at the moment. The stress of the past couple of days and the shock of Will's death was beginning to take it's toll. Best just to let her get it all out.

Before the tidal wave of emotion could erupt, Lana walked around the corner. Mary immediately dawned her 'air of invincibility' as she smoothed back her hair and straightened her shirt. No way in hell was she going to let little miss FBI see her fall apart. Letting Marshall be a witness her mini melt down had been bad enough, but a total stranger? Never.

Lana only gave her a sympathetic smile and held out a glass of water for her. Mary took it graciously, but walked several paces away and turned her back to them. She swished some water in her mouth and spat it on the ground before finishing the glass in two large gulps. Satisfied that she could keep herself together for at least the next few minutes, she turned and moved back to them.

"It's going to take most of the night to clean up the mess." Lana was saying. "There's really nothing we can do until forensics gets done doing their job. When are you planning on going back to Albuquerque?"

"We've got rooms in town tonight." Marshall informed her. "We'll stick around if you need us."

Lana nodded. "I'm not sure. But I'll call you if there's anything else."

An awkward silence followed as they realized that they had all come in the same vehicle. "Um," Marshall stumbled. "Can we give you a lift back to the station?"

"Oh, no." Lana gave Mary a cautious look. "I'll...uh...call someone to pick me up. No big deal."

"You're sure." He seemed uncertain. He felt horrible leaving her stranded there at the diner.

"No really. I'll be fine."

"Okay, we're staying at the Moonlight Inn on the other side of town." Marshall said. "You can reach us there."

"Can we go now?" Mary tapped her foot impatiently.

Marshall nodded. "Right. It was nice to meet you, Lana."

She took his outstretched hand. "It was a pleasure Marshall. And you too Mary." She called after Mary who was already crawling into the rental.

Marshall gave Lana a wan smile and followed to the car. He had barely adjusted the driver's seat when,

"It was a pleasure to meet you." There was no mistaking the mocking tone in Mary's voice, as he maneuvered the car onto the main road.

Normally, Marshall would choose not to engage, but they were both tired and stressed out, and he felt the need to defend the young FBI agent. "Give her a break, Mare. She's young and trying to get a feel for the job."

"Defending her now, Marshall? Didn't know the two of you had such a bonding experience over some crappy burgers. I bet Abigail would love to hear all about that." It was a cheap shot, and Mary knew it. But damn it, she was pissed, and at the moment had no other outlet for it.

For his part, Marshall understood where Mary's venom was coming from. As such, he tried to adjust his tone accordingly. "Actually, Abigail's not the jealous type." He said simply. He conveniently left out the part of that thought that was screaming _not like you, Mary. _

"Isn't that just perfect. I bet you even have a toothbrush at her house. A drawer in her dresser, perhaps, that she cleared her stuff out of just for you."

"What is this really about, Mary?" Marshall had an extremely long fuse with Mary, but right now she was burning it at both ends.

"What? Just trying to make conversation."

"No, your not. You're trying to pick a fight. I know that you are upset about Will and Samantha, but your bitch switch is in overdrive right now."

Mary stared at him for a brief second before saying, "Fine, I'll keep my opinions to myself from now on. In fact, I just won't say anything at all!"

"Hell will freeze over and the zombie apocalypse will be upon us before you can ever keep your trap shut!"

Mary did shut her mouth at that moment and turned to the window, and Marshall suddenly regretted his harsh tone. He should have known better than to allow her to draw him into her pissing match. He knew good and well that her acid tone was just a cover for the hurt that she was feeling inside. She had learned early in life to use her wit and sarcasm as a barrier from the world. At this moment, he was unable to bring himself to apologize. It probably wouldn't do any good anyway.

Both remained silent for the rest of the ride through town. Finally, Marshall pulled in to the motel parking lot and stopped just in front of the lobby doors. Mary waited in the car while he went to check them into their rooms. As she watched him leave, she felt a slight pang of guilt for goading him the way she did. She didn't know why Marshall made such an easy target for her anger, but it wasn't something that she was up for contemplating at the moment. Marshall returned and tossed a room key in her lap.

He didn't look at her as he pulled the car around to the backside of the building. "First floor. We're right next to each other. " He pulled into a parking spot, killed the ignition, and got out. He pulled his go-bag out of the backseat, slamming the door closed behind him. The last thing Mary saw where she still sat in the front seat was his back as he opened the door to his room and disappeared inside.

Twenty minutes later, Mary stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat refreshed. It hadn't completely washed away the grit and grime of the emotional roller coaster that the last forty-eight hours had thrust upon her, but it certainly gave the illusion of making it bearable. She wiped the steam off the mirror just enough to look at reflection.

"Keep it together, Mary." She said sternly.

Before her thoughts could wander any further, the shrill of the room phone pierced the silence. She walked to the far side of the bed and answered.

"Inspector Shannon, this is Agent Crews."

"Yeah," Mary wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear, using her free hand to dry her hair with a towel.

"I just wanted to let you know that my partner got I.D. confirmation on the car bombing victim. It was definitely Will Turner."

Mary nodded numbly. She had been secretly hoping that there had been some sort of body switch and that they would discover that it was not Will's body, but some other poor schmo, and they would find Will alive and well, discovering that he had faked his own death. Hey, it happened before. That apparently was not the case this time. Will Turner was dead.

A knock at the door pulled her away from her thoughts, and realized that she hadn't been paying attention to anything else the FBI agent had been saying. "Okay, thanks, Agent Crews. We'll be heading home tomorrow. You can call us at our field office if you need anything else."

She hung up the phone and moved to the door. After glancing through the peephole, she opened the door. Marshall was standing on the other side holding out a six pack of beer to Mary like a white flag.

"I figured you could use a dr..." His cool demeanor faltered as he took in Mary's attire. Or lack there of.

Mary raised an eyebrow at him before realizing that she was clad in nothing but a motel towel. The kind of motel towel that left little to the imagination. She suddenly felt very exposed. To cover, she snatched the beer from his hand and sneered at him.

"Jesus, Marshall. I'm sure all those Playboys you have hiding under your mattress show a lot more than a flimsy towel." She turned on her heel and walked toward the bathroom leaving the beer on the table. She glanced back at him. "Hope you brought some for yourself."

Marshal recovered somewhat and smiled. From behind his back he produced a brown paper bag. Reaching into it, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. The same kind that she kept stashed in her office drawer.

"Good boy." She said as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

A few minutes later, Marshall sat at the table by the window, boots propped up in the other chair. Two glasses were in front of him, each filled with ice and topped with whiskey. Mary finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, sporting the logo that Marshall recognized as Raphael's baseball team. Her damp hair still fell loose over her shoulders. While the shirt fell to mid thigh, it tugged tightly at her chest. Marshall took a healthy swig of his drink and found something very interesting to look at the bottom of his glass, mostly just to keep himself from staring.

Mary knocked his feet out of the chair across from him before taking her seat. She took her own glass and offered it up to him. He smiled and tapped her glass before they both took a drink. The argument from earlier was forgotten. There was no need for 'I'm sorries.' Apologies were silently offered, taken, and forgotten.

"Your FBI friend called." Mary said after a moment of silent contemplation. She downed the whiskey in her glass.

He reached for the bottle, filled her glass, and then topped off his own. "And?"

"They got a positive I.D." She took another big gulp. "It was Will."

Marshall just nodded. There was no need for her to elaborate on her feelings about Will being dead. She probably wouldn't anyway. So, he changed the subject. "How are the wedding plans coming?" In his head, it seemed like a safe topic, but he really should have known better.

"Really, Marshall? Is this what it's come to?"

He knew what she was talking about. It seemed that since she and Raph had split, and he had started dating Abigail, conversations had become less and less personal, and more about meaningless stuff that neither really cared about. Her sister's upcoming nuptuals, for example. It wasn't just their dialogue either. Both of their actions warranted examining. Marshall's overreaction during recertification and Mary's distance from anything resembling raw emotion had left them in limbo. Fortunately, it had not affected their working relationship, but Marshall had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was an inevitable change as well.

He shrugged. "Thought you might like to talk about something other than work."

Mary took another large gulp and quickly realized that it had followed the first one too soon. Her stomach lurched with a nauseating reminder that she had not two hours ago thrown up everything she had eaten that day. But the numbing sensation that the whiskey brought forth more than made up for a little discomfort.

"Let's not talk about me, then. Especially not about Brandi's wedding. She and mom have that covered to the hilt." She fell silent as she swirled half melted ice in her glass. "How are things with Abigail?"

He eyed her suspiciously, looking for any mark of sarcasm or some trap she was setting for him. He saw none. Despite the venomous conversation in the car, Mary really seem sincere in her question about his relatsionship. _It's the whiskey._ He decided. However, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (especially when Mary was in a genteel mood, by her standards anyway), he decided to answer.

"Um, good, I guess."

Mary blinked at him. "You guess?"

"Things are good." He confirmed. Suddenly describing his relationship with Abigail proved more difficult than he had thought. "I do keep a toothbrush at her house. And she has emptied a dresser drawer for me."

His partner rested her elbow on the table and propped her head up with her hand. "I knew it." She drawled, and he noticed how relaxed and easy her smile was. "So, when's the wedding?"

Marshall's whole body tensed up. Marriage was something that he and Abigail had stayed away from thus far. They hadn't been together but a few months, and there was absolutely no reason to even discuss it. "We...the subject has not come up."

"But you do love her, don't you?"

Marshall felt the temperature in the room rise about ten degrees. The whiskey was beginning to go to his head, and the conversation was definitely heading a dangerous direction. Time to take a play from Mary's book and dodge the question. He stood up quickly, moved to the bed and snatched the TV remote control off the side table.

"You know what? I think there's a Farscape marathon on the SciFi channel tonight." He plopped down on the bed and turned on the TV.

Mary watched him curiously for a moment. Finally, she grabbed the bottle off the table and followed him to the bed. She crawled up next to him, sitting up against the headboard. He had already found the channel he wanted and turned up the volume."Wow, I thought it was my MO to be evasive about relationship questions."

When he ignored her, she grabbed the remote from him and hit the mute button. "Hey," She waited until he looked at her. "are you sure everything's okay?"

Marshall looked at her, taking in every inch of her face. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks were flushed. His mind became a whirlwind of contridictions and self doubt. Yes, he admitted, to himself, he loved Abigail, but the depth of that love was always left a big question mark on his thoughts. At any rate, there were alot of feelings that he was not ready to admit. Not to Mary. And not to himself.

"Yeah," he said finally, not breaking eye contact. "Everything's good."

He could not be sure if she believed him or not, but one thing Mary always strived not to be was a hypocrite. Which is why he was not surprised when she accepted his answer and turned the sound back on the TV for him. She slid down the headboard and made herself comfortable, her hands resting on her stomach. Content that the conversation was put to rest, he focused on the TV and put the thoughts out of his mind. He could examine his feelings for Abigail and any others that might pop up another time, with a clear and sober head.

It was almost 8:30 in the morning when Mary's phone began vibrating on the nightstand. She lifted her head gently as her head began to swim just a bit. Left over from the whiskey, no doubt. Despite the fact that Marshall had fallen asleep in her bed next to her, she was now alone. Sometime in the night he had left. "Thank you, Jesus." She muttered as she finally snatched up the annoying object that was still reeking havok on the cheap bedside table. She glanced at the screen. _Raph._

She sat up and pushed loose strands of her hair back before pushing the talk button. "Hey, Raph."

"Hi Mary." Regardless of the fact that he was in another part of the country, his voice seemed different. Distant. "I got your message to call you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I've been really busy." She paused, not really knowing why she felt the need to explain herself to him. "I...I wanted...I thought maybe we could have coffee sometime." _God, I'm such a dork!_

There was a pregnant pause causing Mary to begin chewing a hangnail on her thumb. "I don't think that is such a good idea, Mary. I've said all I need to say to you."

"But I haven't, Raph. There are some things that I need to explain to you."

"I don't know, Mary."

Mary was on top of the covers on her knees now. She had to make him understand. "Please, Raph. A half an hour. That's all I'm asking." She held her breath.

"Well, I can meet you this afternoon around three o'clock. Tommorrow I am leaving for Japan for three months."

"Japan? What the hell are you going to Japan for?"

Raphael sighed. "It's kind of an exchange program for retired baseball players. We go to other countries to learn about their training techniques and teach them ours."

Mary shook her head. This was not how this was suppose to go. "The thing is, I'm in California right now. I won't be back until tonight."

"I'm sorry, Mary. Today's the only day I have." Another deafening pause. "Maybe when I get back. Can we talk then?"

Mary mulled it over. Three months was a long time to wait to see him. To talk to him. She might chicken out by then. Finally, realizing that the situation was out of her hands, she shrugged. "I guess so."

"Okay then. I will call you when I get back."

"Alright. Bye, Raphael."

"Good bye, Mary."

The finality in his phone as he hung up, left Mary staring at the phone in her lap. Surely that wasn't the last time that she would talk to him. Surely he would call her when he got back. _Of course he would, he's not you, Mary. When Raph says he's going to do something, he does it._

While her own arguement was quite convincing, Mary began to wonder if she had just let the best thing that had happened to her in a long time, just slip through her fingers forever.


End file.
